In My Blood Like Holy Wine
by ellie-kat89
Summary: A mistake almost costs Joey everything he’s ever cared about, but could it also give him everything he’s ever wanted enough to say no? Joey/Rachel
1. In My Blood Like Holy Wine I

**In My Blood Like Holy Wine**

_Oh you're in my blood like holy wine  
You taste so bitter and so sweet  
Oh I could drink a case of you darling  
And I would still be on my feet_

The beer in his hand and in his belly does little to fade the longing and the pain, but then he hadn't really expected it to, though he had hoped it would deaden it a little. He is in Chandler and Monica's backyard, at their big house in Connecticut. Joey is alone, but this is by his own choice. _The stars were brighter in Connecticut._

He takes a long sip, lazily lifting the bottle to his lips. He had hoped that being away for two years, that sticking it out in California would have given him the space he needs to finally get over Rachel Green. But that hope had begun to fade the moment he set eyes on her at the airport, the first time seeing her into years, and continues to fade with each passing moment in her presence.

Joey left New York originally not for the "newer opportunities" but because he honestly wanted Rachel and Ross to be happy, but he couldn't stand seeing the happy little family all the time and always picturing himself in Ross' place. Joey knows he has never been able to compete with the lobsters, with the idea that _Ross and Rachel were meant to be_ and that Joey falling for Rachel had just been a small blip on the map, but that doesn't stop that feeling that he is getting the short end of the stick. Now, he has come back to find that nothing had changed, the feeling for her, the way his heart and stomached always lurched when he saw her, is still the same.

He hears footsteps behind him and turns to see Chandler approaching, looking surprised.

"What are you doing out here Joe?" he asks, joining his best friend on the edge of the deck, both of their legs dangling off of the ledge, their feet inches away from the ground.

Joey shrugs, throat tight. He feels pathetic, tied down by the love that he apparently can't get over, and he doesn't know how to tell his best friend, _brother_, that he is lost. But like always, Chandler knows him better than anyone.

"Is seeing her… still that hard?" he whispers, glancing at the sliding glass door that separates them from the family room.

"Yeah man, it's still that hard." _Swallow_.

Chandler sighs, running a hand over his face. "Wow. I thought that you had gotten over the Rachel thing a long time ago."

Joey shakes his head. "Nope."

Uncomfortable silence descends. Chandler clears his throat. "Well, where's a hideously inappropriate joke when you want one?"

Joey lets a grin spread across his face and his best friend slaps him on the back, but Chandler's expression is solemn. "Don't spend all night alone out here, everyone else was starting to wonder where you disappeared to." Chandler grabs the side of the railing and pulls himself up to a standing position. "Monica and Rachel are putting the kids to bed and then we're gonna watch Weekend at Bernie's, you know, for old times sake."

This time Joey laughs. "You wanted to watch Miss Congeniality didn't you?"

"Well, YEAH," he exclaims, as if to say _of course_ he did, "but I was outvoted."

"I'll be there in a minute."

Chandler nods and leaves, disappearing back into the house. Joey finishes his beer and stands. He turns away from the Chandler and Monica's backyard and looks through the sliding glass door into the house. Everyone is gathered and Chandler is putting in the DVD and fiddling with the TV. Rachel and Ross are on the sofa, cuddled together, Ross is laughing at something that Phoebe had said, but Rachel isn't laughing. Her eyes are on _him_ instead and her expression is concerned, pained even, and suddenly loving Rachel never hurt so much.

****

The apartment above Chandler and Monica's garage is roughly half the size of the old apartment, complete with a tiny kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom. Chandler had joked that when he was ready to return to New York permanently that they would decorate it _just_ like apartment 19, but for the moment it has Monica's name written all over it.

Joey falls back onto the bed and kicks off his shoes, letting them fly across the room until they hit the opposite wall. He doesn't know why but the day has drained him; it probably has something to do with the sudden awkwardness of being with his friends again after two years, of feeling like an outsider for the first time ever – and of realizing that his love for Rachel hadn't faded over time.

He doesn't bother taking off the rest of his clothes as he turns over onto his side, his arm tucked under his head, acting as a pillow even though there is a perfectly good one at the head of the bed. With his feet dangling over the end of the mattress, Joey falls asleep, missing the sounds of the city.

****

_I remember that time you told me you said  
"Love is touching souls"  
Surely you touched mine  
'Cause part of you pours out of me  
In these lines from time to time_

He is woken an hour so later by timid, unsure knocking at the front door of the apartment. Joey staggers out of bed, clothes wrinkled and black hair sticking up, and answers the door, eyes squinting out into the darkness. It's Rachel, shivering in nothing but her pajamas.

"Geez Rach are you crazy? It's freaking freezing."

He tugs her inside and closes the door behind her, shutting out the night's too cool breeze.

"I couldn't sleep," Rachel offers as an explanation, biting her lip in a way that floods his mind with ideas. "And… I also need to talk to you."

"_Okaaaay_, shoot."

She doesn't wait and doesn't beat around the bush, but dives right into it. "Why are you acting weird?"

He chuckles nervously, his inability to lie, or for that matter keep a secret, making him anxious – _what if she pushes for an explanation?_ "I'm not acting weird."

"Yes you are!"

"Uh, _no_, I'm not."

Rachel sighs, her head bowed a little and her thumb and forefinger pressing against her temples. "I've missed you more than you can possibly imagine and when you finally come home for a visit, after I've begged you for ages, you barely look at me, or talk to me." Her head lifts and then it's like she's looking _into_ him, not just at him. "Are you mad at me or something?"

"No, of course not! I've never been mad at you – not for anything," he whispers, hurt that she'd think that.

"How am I supposed to know that any more Joe? You leave for two years and then when you come back you act like a totally different person! You're closed off, aloof, and it's like you don't even want to be around any of us anymore. What? Are your LA friends better or something?" She's mad now and he can't understand why, but the way he's feeling, the emotions running through him uncontrollably, he becomes angry too, it's the easiest thing to feel completely.

He scoffs. "I didn't change you're the one that changed! And what the hell does aloof mean anyways?"

Rachel growls and stamps her feet in frustration. "I have not changed," she hisses through gritted teeth.

"Yes you have, you all have!" he yells suddenly, and her eyes widen, stunned that easy going Joey had raised his voice in anger. He's gesturing wildly now, letting the Italian out. "I come back and there's no space left for me anymore. You're cuddly with Ross, Monica and Chandler have babies and diapers and mortgages, Phoebe is with Mike and planning babies and diapers and mortgages, and where does that leave me? Alone! And…" he swallows hard, catching his breath, "every time I see you it's still like my heart is being ripped out of my chest. I had you to myself for one week, and you were really never even mine! And I have to pretend that it doesn't bother me, I have to pretend that I don't love you…."

He's breathing hard by the time he's done and he can't bring himself to look at her; his hands are on his hips and he can't fight the angry, hurt tears that are building behind his eyes. "I want you to be happy Rach, more than anything, and Ross he's my best friend too, and I never want to get in the way of that but it's been four long years and I can't make it go away. And I am just so tired Rach… so tired."

Joey doesn't realize that he's put as much space between them as he can until his back hits the wall adjacent to the bathroom door. He still hasn't looked at her since his rambling, tirade began, and the sound of her silence, a horrible empty buzzing in his ears, makes him feel nauseous – until she finally speaks.

"Oh Joey," she murmurs, her voice thick with tears. "I'm so sorry honey."

He feels dazed, sick, he doesn't notice her approach him until her arms are wrapped around his waist and her cheek is pressed warmly against his chest. His mindlessly wraps his arms around her too, enveloping her completely like he had so many times before. He buries his face into her hair, breathes in before he can stop himself. "Please tell me how to get over you, because I don't know how, and it would make everything so much easier if you were just my extremely hot friend Rachel again."

Rachel half sobs, half laughs once into his chest, and his fingers dig into the soft material of her pajama top at the feeling of her so close to him.

"Maybe, you just need to get it out of your system…" she murmurs, so softly that he almost doesn't hear her, but he knows precisely what she means that exact moment that she says it.

The sudden feeling of her lips against his chin, his neck is _intoxicating_. It's never been like this between them before. There's no over thinking anything, in fact there's no thinking at all, just action as his fingers lift her shirt until he can feel the bare, warm skin of her back. When he tips his head down and claims her lips, it's all warm, slick heat like sex. It's like before, that one week two years ago, but ten times better, more desperate. She's sucking his tongue into her mouth and he's nibbling on that same spot where her teeth were digging down into just minutes ago.

Seconds pass in blinding heat, like flashes of light. Suddenly it's her that is against the wall, and it's her legs that wrap around his waist, and it's his hands that tug up her shirt until her breasts are bared, and it's his mouth that explores her nipples, and it's her rubbing against him like a cat in heat. It's her moans, and his answering thrusts – she can feel him hard through their layers of clothing – and it's the desire that has never gone away for her either, it's just been dormant, in hiding. She's clawing at his back, ripping his shirt up and off, arching and begging, as his hands grip her hips and ass, bringing her down hard against his denim covered erection.

The sudden realization that if the clothes were gone he would be buried balls deep inside her, _fucking_ her, is both thrilling and _horrifying_. _Get it out of your system_, suddenly echoes through his mind like a gunshot, ripping through the haze of lust. It's just gonna be one night, he realizes suddenly, a dirty, wrong one night stand that they pretend never happened later on. And it's all like an ice cold bucket of water being dumped over his head.

He rips himself away from her without any warning, just as Rachel was struggling to unbuckle his pants. She falls to her knees with a cry of surprise, landing thankfully unharmed on the soft carpet. Rachel is shaking and panting, eyes unfocused and glazed as she struggles to think and see straight. Her eyes clear when the look on her would-be-lover's face becomes apparent; the sob sticks in her throat and she collapses to her stomach, curling into a ball, her own bucket of cold water hard and violent.

"I—I want forever, not just one night," he gasps, trying to explain, trying to understand himself. "I don't want to be that guy, and I don't want you to be that girl."

And then… he's running. He's out the door and down the stairs in the dark, almost slipping and falling before he catches himself. He's opening Chandler and Monica's front door with the brand new key that they gave him, stunned and confused that he even remembered to grab his keys and his wallet on the way out of the apartment. He finds Monica's keys to the Porsche, and scribbles a quick note to Chandler, wondering if his friend will even be able to read it given his shaking hand.

_Chandler,  
Have to get away for awhile, tell Mon I'll return the car back in a couple of days, tell her I'm sorry. I won't scratch it I promise._

-Joey

He's back out of the house in under two minutes. The keys jingle in his hand as he runs back towards the garage, bypassing by the stairs to the little apartment that was designated as his. He unlocks the side garage door and climbs into the Porsche. Thankfully he remembers to open the big garage door with the little remote on the dashboard before starting the car and accidentally blasting his way through the metal door. The moment the door has risen enough for him to drive through, he hits the gas and tears out of there. He glances in the rear view mirror for a split second and it's just long enough for him to catch sight of Rachel at the top of the stairs, looking like a ghost in her lavender colored pajamas, and the tears still falling down her flushed cheeks, glisten like the stars. Joey was right _the stars were brighter in Connecticut._


	2. In My Blood Like Holy Wine II

**In My Blood Like Holy Wine, Part II**

_Just before our love got lost you said  
I am as constant as a northern star  
And I said, constantly in the darkness  
Where's that at?  
If you want me I'll be in the bar_

_Maybe, you just need to get it out of your system…_ The words came out unexpectedly, which she would later chalk up to fatigue and an overload of emotion. She got lost in the sensation, but that minute or so was just enough time to cross a line that they would never be able cover up.

She doesn't know just one thing that she should be feeling in this moment, as she watches Joey speed away in Monica's Porsche, so she feels everything at once – until her chest aches from it. There's guilt, enough to feel like she's drowning in the sorrow of what she destroyed, there's worry as Joey's tail lights disappear in a blur of reckless speed, there's desire, still lingering in the way her skin feels like it's tingly and sensitive, but mostly there's the unanswerable question of what she should do now. First she feels like running after him, begging him to please come back, but then there's the compulsion to climb into bed and hide under the covers until reality disappears.

Standing out there in the cold and the dark, the apartment door open and pouring out light and warmth, Rachel Green feels more lost than she ever has before. The world has been turned upside down and she's been turned inside out, and suddenly she doesn't feel like she _fits_ anymore. There's a burning _what if?_, purposefully ignored until this moment, but now it's been shoved into the spot light, and Rachel can not shove it back out. There's just so many 'what if's with them that it feels like the past is unsettled, because it all could be so different….

Numbly, she closes the door to the apartment and walks down the stairs, her slippered feet rustling loudly against the wood. She can vividly remember the moment that she first looked at him as something more than a friend; it'd only lasted a night, a very frustrating, "erotically charged" night. The Evander Holyfield phase during her fourth month of pregnancy had been rough but that one night in particular would remain in her memory as the horniest she's ever been. The knowledge that he was just in the next room, perfectly able (God was he ever able) to help her but unwilling had kept her up all that night. If he had known the lengths she had been _forced_ to resort that night to relieve the ache, he'd have come running, unable to resist.

Making her way across the lawn back towards the main house, Rachel wonders idly when Joey first noticed his own feelings – she's never asked and he's never told her. She's curious now, all of a sudden….

She lets herself into the house and walks carefully through the dark, her hand trailing along the furniture and walls so that she doesn't crash into anything. She knows that in the morning she'll have to tell Ross what happened (she can't hide from reality forever) but for now she just wants to be alone for awhile. She walks through the kitchen, where there's a small light on, and catches sight of the note that Joey left for Chandler. A few more tears fall from her eyes and she sits heavily down in one of the kitchen chairs.

Rachel wipes the tears away eventually, cursing herself silently for being weak. So many people besides her and Joey were going to be hurt over this… and she's only thinking about herself. She has to tell Ross, in the morning, what she did – is going to have to have to explain to Chandler why his best friend ran off. In that moment, in the semi-darkness, surrounded by her 'what if's and the attraction (more than attraction though really, it had always been more than just attraction) that won't go away, she sits and waits for morning to arrive.

****

Joey's been driving for only fifteen minutes when he pulls over to the side of the road, opens his door, and loses most of his last meal all over the pavement. His stomach is in knots, and it seems like not only his mind but also his body is being thrown into turmoil. He keeps replaying the moment with Rachel over and over in his mind, from the beginning of the night, with the awkwardness and strained silence, to the end, with her body pressed intimately against his.

The contents of his stomach more settled, he closes the car door warily and leans his forehead against the steering wheel, taking deep, calming breaths. Who knew that a kiss could affect him so much? _Yeah, but,_ he thought to himself, _a kiss with Rachel isn't any normal kiss_. And then too… it'd been a hell of a lot more than just a simple kiss. He had never gotten the chance to taste so much of her, see so much of her. In the end, Rachel was going to be the best _everything_ he ever had – best friend, best lover – and they'd never even gotten the chance to sleep together.

Fumbling for the keys in the ignition, Joey starts the car again and pulls back onto the road, now driving slower, more sensibly. He knows that Monica would kill him if he crashed and died in her Porsche….

Driving further out into the night, he heads to the one place where he knows he might just find some peace… New York, _home_.

****

Morning comes and goes, and with it comes reality.

She expects Ross to yell at her, really, because that's how they always handled things in the past. She'd yell, he'd yell, and then maybe, the fight would be over, but this time there is more to it than that. The fight never begins and the fight never ends, it just _is_. Ross seems oddly unsurprised, like he'd always known that she wasn't totally over Joey. They sit on their bed in the guestroom, and talk it out, Ross in his pajama pants, and Rachel in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Emma is downstairs with her cousins eating breakfast, and Chandler and Monica know that Joey left, but don't know why exactly, or at least Monica doesn't but Chandler seemed to know just by looking at her.

"It was just a kiss right, a one time thing, you two had a fight and were upset, it didn't mean anything," Ross seemed to have said it more to himself than to her.

It's cruel not to tell him everything, to keep him in the dark about what she's thinking, what she's been feeling for what feels like forever, but still hiding everything.

"Ross," she begins as tenderly as she can, "it did mean something, to me at least, and I can't hide from it."

He doesn't reply for several, heart achingly long moments. "You're in love with him." It isn't a question, because Ross already knows the answer – Rachel nods in affirmation.

He stands suddenly and goes to the window, looking out over the perfectly manicured lawn and the family friendly neighborhood. "If you love him, than why did you and I ever… _try again_?"

"Because I love you too, it's just – it's different, I can't explain it."

"It's more with Joey?"

"Yeah."

Ross leans against the window, hands against the wide, wooden sill, and just thinks. Finally he chuckles sadly. "You know it's funny, they all said we were _meant_ to be together, but I guess they were wrong. With all of the back and forth, and Emma, and the 'history….'"

"Ross…" but the rest of the words Rachel wants to say get stuck in her throat, along with the sob that she wants to let out – there are tears in her eyes.

"It's alright Rach, I figure that our friendship is like a cockroach, it can survive anything, even this. It might be weird for awhile, but we'll be okay, aren't we always?"

Rachel laughs weakly.

"Besides, the way there we were living, walking on eggshells around each other, always trying not to piss the other off, worried that the next fight would be _the one_. It'll all be better this way, without all the hurtful words and accusations."

She swallows hard, knowing that he's right. She hadn't been unhappy, per se, in the last two years, but she hadn't been wholly happy either. She'd just sort of been… stagnant. "I never meant or wanted to hurt you."

"I know." He gives her a halfhearted smile. "Come here."

They hug, and he kisses the top of her head and whispers against her scalp. "Go after him Rach, you know how hard he takes everything – he's probably trying to buy tickets for Siberia already. Go get him before he does something that we'll all regret, before he gets it any more in his head that he's lost his friends."

Ross pulls away from her and wipes the build up of moisture away from his brown eyes. He gently pushes her towards the door. "Go Rach, I'll stay here with Emma for the rest of the day like we planned."

She walks towards the door and through it, and it's the symbolic ending of "Ross and Rachel," as much as the real one. It's a part of her life that is suddenly, just… over, and it hurts, but not as much as she expects it to. Ross is right in the end, the six of them, their friendship is like steel (Rach doesn't care much for the cockroach analogy). The idea that no matter what, they'll be there to love her and to forgive her, through all the years of her life, is comforting, and beautiful. They're more like family than anything else and blood's always thicker than water.

She's so nervous that her hands are shaking again as she walks down the stairs. The kids are done with their breakfast and are in the family room, Emma engrossed in Saturday morning cartoons and the twins playing with their collection of toys. Monica and Chandler are in the kitchen, cups of their traditional morning coffee between them.

"Is everything okay?" Monica asks, eye brows raised as Rachel enters, eyes red and puffy.

"Um… everything will be – I just –." Rachel's eyes focus on Chandler for a moment and she's 100% certain in that moment that he knows the truth in her heart. "I'm in with love Joey, and I'm going to go get him… where ever he is."

Monica's mouth promptly falls open in disbelief. "You're _what_?" Her best friend sputters for a moment. "B—but I thought you guys just had a fight, what brought this on?"

_What to say, how to explain?_ "It's been a long time in coming," she finally answers, hoping that it's enough for now, because the longer that Joey is gone, the more it feels like she's losing him. She turns to Chandler now. "You called his parents?"

"Yeah, but they haven't seen or heard from him."

Rachel groans.

"Freaked out his mom though, A LOT," Chandler says, putting down his newspaper angrily and standing up to pace – he's just as worried as Rachel. "Accused us of _losing_ him…."

"What about his cell phone?" Monica offers.

Chandler shook his head. "Left it, it's in the family room."

"He could be anywhere," Rachel mutters, letting her head fall until her forehead touches the table.

They hear movement behind them and turn, finding that Phoebe's back from her run to the donut shop. Their blonde friend puts the pink box of sweets down and turns to face them, a sly sort of knowing smile on her face. "You know, I was thinking, I think I know where Joey would go."

"Where?"

She smiles, as if it's so obvious and she can't believe that they didn't realize it earlier. "He'd go home."

"To LA?!" Monica explodes. "But he's got my car!"

They all turn, every single one of them and fix her with a disbelieving stare. Monica blushes and clears her throat. "Sorry, I know that's not what's important right now."

"No Mon, that's not where home is, not to Joey, think about it," Phoebe continues.

"_The Village_…" they all utter together.

Chandler shakes his head in disbelief, sitting down heavily, with relief, in his vacated chair. "Oh my God, why didn't I think of that!"

But Rachel doesn't hear what else is said because she's up and out of the kitchen like lightening, because she knows that Phoebe is right, that's the only place Joey would be. She kisses Emma on the top of her head, grabs her keys, and is out of the front door, shouting goodbye.

In the kitchen, they watch her leave through one of the windows. Monica, some of the earlier disbelief still evident on her face, turns to Phoebe, the words _just_ about dieing to come out of her. "She's in love with Joey, can you believe it!"

Phoebe grins. "I know."

"You knew? But how?"

She giggles and taps her head with her middle finger, like all of the answers in the world are held there. "Oh I just know; anyone can see that those two are at their happiest when they're together."

Monica fell silent, remembering the time when Rachel was living with Joey, and also remembering how the two missed each other when she moved in with Ross when she was pregnant with Emma. And how for weeks after he'd left for LA, she couldn't get over missing him. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Phoebe laughs. "Aren't I always?"

TBC


	3. In My Blood Like Holy Wine III

**In My Blood Like Holy Wine, Part III**

_I met a woman  
She had a mouth like yours  
She knew your life  
She knew your devils and your deeds  
And she said  
Go to him, stay with him if you can  
But be prepared to bleed_

He gravitates towards the corner of Bedford and Grove Street, like it was a beacon calling him home. After finding a parking spot for the Porsche a few blocks away, Joey walks the familiar steps to the apartment building that he'd called home for more than a decade. Even after two years of being away, it looked unchanged – from the outside at least. Standing just outside looking up to the windows that he knows are apartment 19, he wonders why he's even there. Someone else probably lives there now, it's someone else's home now, not really his anymore.

But he finds himself walking up the stairs anyways, determined at least to get a good look before he leaves. First, he stops by Mr. Treeger's, knocking until the heavy set man opens the door, a plate of eggs and sausages in his hand.

"Tribbiani!" he exclaims, surprised and (truth be told) pleased to him.

They do the man-slap-hug thing.

"Hey Mr. Treeger," Joey replies. "How's it goin'?"

The big man shrugs, a clump of scambled eggs almost jarred off of his sagging paper plate. "Oh, ya know, same old, same old. Surprised to see you though Joe, didn't think that any of you kids would be in this neck of the woods again."

Joey sort of wants to laugh, because he's 37 years old and the super is still calling him a kid, and probably would have if his heart wasn't still beating, cracked in two, in his chest.

"I was in the city and thought I'd stop by." Really, he wants to see his old apartment but knows it's probably futile to ask and he doesn't want to feel let down when Treeger tells him that someone is living there.

"Hey, you wanna see the old place?" the super asks, reaching inside his picket for the large bundle of keys.

Joey smiled. "That'd be great, thanks man."

"No problem. You're timings perfect, new tenant is moving in the day after tomorrow." He rifles through the keys until he finds the one marked '19' and takes it off the ring, handing it to Joey. "Stay as long as you want."

Joey takes the key, the feeling of hard, cold metal in his hand reminding him of the _very_ first time Chandler gave him a key, or the time that he'd given Rachel hers.

"Is 20 occupied?" he asks, just in case, because that place is special too.

Treeger nods. "Yeah, a couple with a kid."

Joey thanks the super again and heads up the stairs. He reaches the top floor soon enough and stops in front of apartment 19, key in hand and his hand suspended level with the key hole. He doesn't know why but he feels nervous, which he knows is stupid because all it is, is an empty apartment; sure it used to be his home, but people move all the time and didn't feel this way, but Joey felt tied to this place. He'd met his friends here, and of course _he had held Rachel for the first time in the barcalounger while they watched Cujo_.

Taking a deep breath he sticks the key in the lock and turns it; he pushes the door open and is met with the familiar sight of his apartment, though it is a little bit changed. Treeger had given the place a fresh coat of paint, the kitchen cabinets were a bright white, and there was a new countertop. But Monica's floors were still there and the place still _felt_ like number 19, still felt like home. The place is of course empty, no furniture or posters on the wall, but it didn't feel so empty to the point where he couldn't connect to it.

He walks in and closes the door behind him. Since there's really no place to sit he just plants himself on the floor, back against the peninsula, facing where the TV once was. He leans his head back against the cabinet and lets his eyes roam around the room, remembers growing up (at least a little bit) the moment that he'd fallen in love with Rachel; it had happened _right there_ – his eyes focus on the spot – the second that she'd leaned into him, made that little noise in the back of her throat, that half sigh, half _sort of_ moan. It'd made him ache, in all the usual places, and all the new ones that, at the time, had scared him shitless.

But all the memories couldn't make up, or change what had happened. He'd crossed the line, broken the infamous _rules_ and he couldn't image ever being forgiven.

****

Rachel put her foot hard to the gas peddle, cursing and muttering under her breath as she zipped by cars, maneuvering around traffic with surprising, terrifying speed. The thicker the traffic become, and the more time it took her just to go a mile, the feeling that Joey was slipping through her fingers increased. It'd been many hours now, since Joey had left, and though it made sense for him to visit their old apartment building, she couldn't imagine that he would spend a great deal of time there; somebody else was living there now, and the chances of Rachel finding him there seemed slim to her.

Before long she reached the old familiar route to her old home. She drove along, still several blocks away from the apartment, and cranes her neck around to see if she could spot Monica's Porsche. She drove by their old building and continued on, turning down every street, praying hard that she might see the car…. When she doesn't see the car she parks several several blocks away, grabs her purse, and is out of the car quickly. She jogs down the sidewalk, heart beating wildly in her chest at the prospect that maybe he might be there.

As she got closer, it was almost like she could feel him, _just ahead – so close_, in her blood, thrumming through her veins powerfully. She hadn't seen the car but the hope was blossoming in her chest anyways, because _God_ she needed him to be there.

Rachel opened the all too familiar door, ran up the all too familiar stairs, and finger tips were just touching the all too familiar door handle when it was suddenly jerked open for her. She'd expected, hoped that it was going to be Joey, but it was Mr. Treeger, a can of white paint in hand.

"M – Mr. Treeger," Rachel stutters, brain still trying to catch up with what it all meant.

He himself looks surprised, incredulous. "Christ, what's today, some kind of reunion?" he asks.

"What?" Rachel utters dazedly, the suddenly waning adrenaline making her feel off.

"Are you all in the Village or just you and Joey?"

Unable to make even her own thoughts string together in a cohesive manner, let alone a sentence, she mutters "_Joey_" and sags against the wall, short of breath from her run up the stairs.

"Hey, you okay?"

Is she? Probably not.

"Joey was here?" she gasps, pressing her hand against the stitch in her side.

"Yeah, he left like an hour ago I guess, was here for awhile."

_Was there, but not anymore; she'd missed him, and God she had felt so sure for that couple of minutes, that she would find him there…._

Taking a deep breath she rights herself and puts on what she hops is her I'm-really-not-falling-apart face. "Did he say where he was going next?" she asks.

Mr. Treeger shakes his head.

"Shit." She feels like screaming, like ripping out her own hair in frustration. In a city of more than eight million people, finding Joey is going to be like finding the world's tiniest needle in the world's biggest haystack.

In that moment, where the hope was draining out of her, she glances up, over Mr. Treeger's shoulder, and spots something yellow and out of place on the wall in between what had been their two rooms. It's a piece of paper torn out of one of those old-fashioned legal pads, taped to the wall. She reaches around Mr. Treeger and pushes the door open wider, and gives a half sob, half laugh at what she reads on that piece of paper. In Joey's messy scrawl are the words _Joey T. and Rachel G. were here_. It's smack dab in the middle of their two old rooms and it fills Rachel with a warm, fuzzy feeling in the vicinity of her heart.

Joey can run, but he can't hide, not forever.

She bids Mr. Treeger goodbye, grabs Joey's note, and goes back down to her car, a new hopefull skip in her step. She knew Joey Tribbiani better than he knew himself, if anyone could find him in New York City it would be her. She pulls out her phone and the first thing she does is call Chandler. The phone rings for a few seconds before he picks up.

"_Hellooo_," he sing-songs, "Chandler here."

Rachel pauses. "Do you always answer the phone that way?"

Chandler clears his throat and when he does speak his voice is falsely deep. "Uh… no, that'd just be dumb." He falls silent for a second. "Alright fine I do, Monica hates it."

Rachel shakes her head, a smile crossing her lips.

"Have you heard from Joey?" she asks, crossing her fingers that maybe Chandler might say yes.

"No, I guess that means that you didn't find him then."

"I missed him by about an hour, but he did stop by at the old apartment." Rachel's hand tightens on the phone as her resolve strengthens by the second, that yellow paper is staring her in the face. "But I'm not going to stop looking. Can you do me a favor and call his parents again, maybe he went there next?"

"Yeah, I'll do that right now, and then I'll call you back."

Rachel agrees and hits _end_ on her cell. She expects him to call back in just a couple of minutes but when the ten minute mark comes and goes, she starts to get antsy. She stares hard at her phone, willing for it to ring.

Finally, after twelve minutes, Chandler calls her back.

"Where the hell have you been!" she yells promptly into the phone, not bothering with a hello.

Chandler's voice is fast and excited when he speaks. "He was there when I called! He answered the phone actually."

Rachel sighs in relief. _Thank you God_.

"But he's a definite flight risk, he's upset and when I told him you were looking for him he got jumpy. By the way, you know I have to ask you, what DID happen last night?"

In the background Rachel hears Monica faintly yell. "Yeah, I want to know that too!"

"I don't have time for that right now!" Rachel screeches, close now to full on panic, and starts the car and pulls out into traffic. "Look, just call him back and do whatever you have to do to keep him there. I'll be there as soon as I can and then… I can fix this."

Except in this traffic it's going to take her at least 45 minutes to get to Queens, and if Joey's planning on leaving before she gets there…. She doesn't want to think about the possibility of losing him again after this.

"Alright good luck, I'll call him again and try to keep him on the line until you get there."

Rachel takes a shaky breath. "Thanks Chandler," she whispers, feeling her throat get tight with the possibility of impending tears. "And tell him…" she stops, _and tell him what, tell him that I love him?_ she doesn't want the first time Joey hears those words from her to be through some one else. "Tell him to please stay there, _for me_."

"I will Rach, I promise," he murmurs in reply and then hangs up, leaving dead silence on Rachel's end.

_Queens, here I come_.

_Oh but you are in my blood you're my holy wine  
You're so bitter, bitter and so sweet  
Oh I could drink a case of you darling_

TBC


	4. In My Blood Like Holy Wine IV

**A/N: So sorry about the long time between updates, I've had horrible writer's block for months and then finally, a few nights ago this just came out! I'm hoping that the next chapter will be out speedily. Thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed, you guys are great :).**

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**In My Blood Like Holy Wine Part IV**

_Ten miles from town and I just broke down_

_Spittin' out smoke on the side of the road_

_I'm out here alone just tryin' to get home_

_To tell you I was wrong but you already know_

_Believe me I won't stop at nothin' to see you _

_so I've started runnin'_

_-RJRJ-_

_Five months earlier…_

He's long since mastered the overwhelming desire to phone Rachel at every turn, but that doesn't mean that on some nights, when his apartment is empty and dark, he doesn't miss her so much he can't breathe right. Joey picks up the phone, not bothering to check the time, as he dials her familiar number. While the phone rings, he pops two pieces of refrigerator-cold pizza into the microwave, the scent of cheese and pepperoni chasing away the lingering odor of the perfume his date had been wearing. What had her name been? Kimberly? Stephanie? He definitely knew that there was "e" sound at the end…. Oh well, he knows that he wouldn't be seeing her again.

A wide grin appears on his face when Rachel finally answers her phone.

"Hi Rach it's me, what's up?"

"Hey Joe," she replies, "nothing much, just watching a little late night TV."

Joey glances at the clock, shit it was late. "I'm sorry it's so late…."

"Don't worry, I love it when you call… you don't do it very often anymore."

Joey clears his throat awkwardly. She said that almost every time he did call, which admittedly had, over the months gotten further and further apart. The guilt wells up in his throat. "Sorry Rach but I've been super swamped, you know with auditions and… stuff."

"Oh, well, I'm glad you called anyways."

Joey took a bite of his pizza and burned his mouth, but it was a good excuse not to talk; now that he'd called her, heard her voice, did the usual comparison between the woman he'd just had sex with, and the one he really wanted, it'd left him feeling _incomplete_.

"Oh hey! Guess what I'm watching," Rachel says.

"Hmm… what?"

"Cujo, you know this movie doesn't get any less scary, no matter how many times you see it." Rachel pauses. "I was, uh, just thinking about you actually, I'm really glad you called."

Joey takes his pizza and walks over to the little DVD tower next to the TV, finds his copy of Cujo and pops it in to the player. "Yeah I was just thinking about you too." _Before, during, and after_. "Where are you at in the movie?"

"Oh, right where Cujo attacks that cop," she answers, and Joey skips to that scene on his TV.

They talk about nothing for a minute or two (but really it's everything), Joey with his pizza and the phone cradled in his shoulder while they watch their movie. He's turned off the lights and with her voice in his ear he can pretend that she's actually in the room with him and not all the way across the country.

He's just starting to get sleepy, eyes heavy lidded (still always on the line with Rachel even though they haven't said anything for at least a minute, but it's comfortable) when the doorbell suddenly rings.

"What was that?" she asks over the phone, sounding surprised.

His pizza plate, now empty, tumbles to the floor as he stands, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs out. "Someone at the door."

"This late at night?"

Joey shrugs, forgetting that Rachel can't actually see him and answers the door, phone still in hand, just the tip of it dangling from his fingerstips. It's his date from less than twenty minutes ago, clothes unchanged, looking just like she had when she'd left his apartment, well fucked.

His mind tries to play catch up. _Shit, what WAS her name?_ He forgets about the phone in his hand and blurts out the possible name that's in the forefront of his mind.

"Brandi, uh, what are you doing back?"

She smiles, sort-of-sexy, and steps into his apartment. "Hmm, baby," she purrs, "I just decided I haven't had enough of you yet." Her hand, capped with long red fingernails, ran tantalizingly down his chest to the belt of his robe. She cups him and smirks. "Well, hello there again, _big boy_."

_Oh Jesus_.

Joey swallows and steps back, the phone in his hand burning him like a hot coal. He was hyperaware that Rachel could hear everything. "Um, Brandi, I like you and all, and I think you're very nice but I thought you were going home." Brandi frowns, the sexy-kitten falling off of her face quickly.

"_Excuse me_?" she asks, all attitude with her hands on her hips.

Joey chuckles nervously. "Ya see, I thought you were going home and – uh – staying there."

Brandi's eyes narrow further. "I see, fine then." She turns, stomps out, and slams the door behind her hard enough to make the walls shake.

After she's gone the heavy silence in the room is suffocating, and when he lifts the phone to his ear, he can't think of anything to say; never before has he been without words. He's never hidden the fact that he likes sex and that he has always been good at getting it, but this feels different and weird... icky. Ever since he'd developed feelings for her, and especially when she moved in the second time with Emma, he's kept it on the low. It isn't until now that he knows why exactly. Without so many women coming and going in the old apartment, it was easier to keep up the daydream, or delusion, that _they_ hadn't failed at his much hoped for relationship.

"I uh," he tries, and then groans in frustration when he can't make anything worthwhile come out of his mouth.

He hears weak, nervous laughter on the other end of the line. "I'd better go now Joey, I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah all right Rach, good night."

But she hangs up the phone before the end of '_night_', and he's left, feeling like an idiot, but in New York, Rachel tries to swallow her sudden swell of jealousy.

* * *

_Present_.

He'd never expected Rachel to come after him, to _search_ for him like she apparently was. Joey had missed her so much (missed her to the point of heart break) and their love had gone wrong so many times, that the thought of Rachel actually coming for him, was mind boggling. But, at the same time, he didn't want to see her, he was too scared of what she would say when she actually got there.

"Look Chandler… I just don't know," he says into the phone in his hand.

Joey hears Chandler sigh on the other end. "Joe, I don't know what happened exactly, but I do know that you have to stay where you are."

It feels like his heart is being turned and twisted and pulled in every direction; he can hear his parents in the living room, muttering quietly to each other about him, about the way he's acting (they'd never seen him heartbroken). Then there's Chandler on the phone, begging him to talk to Rachel.

"Joe, talk to me, tell me what happened."

Joey swallows hard, remembering what he and Rachel had done… he couldn't tell Chandler that, he was too ashamed.

"It'll be just between you and me," Chandler urges.

Joey rubs his eyes tiredly and then takes a look behind him at his parents through the doorway to the livingroom from the kitchen. Not wanting his mother to hear he ducks into another room and shuts the door.

"We… well we. Shit Chandler I can't say it."

Chandler's voice lowers. "Did you two have sex?"

"What! No, of course not. But we might as well have. It was just as bad."

Chandler sighs. "Maybe you're blowing it out of proportion."

"No, I'm not."

Joey hears some talking over the line, like Chandler is whispering to someone else over his shoulder. "Chandler who's that?" he asks.

"Ross wants to talk to you, he wants you to come back too."

Joey's heart careens around in his chest. "He knows!"

"Well yeah, I think Rachel told him," Chandler replies as gently as he can.

"Oh God I'm a homewrecker! He hates me doesn't he? I'd hate me." Joey thunks his head against the bathroom wall a few times.

"Joey he doesn't hate you alright. We're all just a little confused, we thought you were over Rachel a long time ago."

Joey squeezes his eyes shut tight, and swallows hard. "I don't think that can be done, I've already tried… A LOT."

There was a rustling noise over the phone and he hears more whispers, but he doesn't bother trying to decipher them. When someone came back on the phone, it wasn't Chandler, but Ross. His voice is soothing, placating almost, like he's talking to a cornered, frightened animal.

"Joey, we're your friends, your _family_, no one is ever going to hate you, _I_ am never going to hate you." Ross takes a deep breath on the other end. "It wasn't like it was a big shock Joe, I know Rachel and I know you, and I know that it's really only ever been her. There was a time in our lives where you were there for her, in a way that I never was, and I can't change that. I've tried, Joe, I tried to erase all those times that Rachel and I hurt each other, but I can't, and I finally realize that now."

It feels like there's something stuck in his throat and he can't speak, even though he knows that his friend is expecting him to say _something_.

"You still there?"

"Yeah," Joey croaks, "I'm still here."

Ross chuckles nervously. "Oh good, I was worried that I'd just laid my whole heart out and that there was no one there to hear it."

"No, I heard it."

An awkward silence envelopes them for a long, tense moment.

"Just wait for her there, Joe, just wait for her, please. Stop running."

_Stop running. _Is that what he's doing, he wonders, running? It hasn't felt like running… escaping maybe, but then he'd never known that someone was chasing after him. Why was it that they were always two steps ahead or behind each other? But if he stayed, that could all change. If he just stayed, could it all suddenly, miraculously work out? Could it really be that simple?

"Ross…."

"Look, we're probably going to talk this thing to death later, but for right now Joe, just follow your heart."

Through the tightness in his throat (he wonders wildly if he isn't coming down with something) he manages a shaky "alright."

Ross lets out a long breath of relief.

After their "goodbyes," Joey hits the _end _button, the beep that the phone makes sounding strangely loud in the bathroom.

"Joey," his mother calls a few seconds later, her voice uncommonly concerned. "Is everything okay?"

He pushes himself off the wall and runs a hand over his face. "Yeah, Ma I'm fine." He opens the door and comes face to face with his mother. It's impossible to hide anything from her, always has been, and so he doesn't even try. He can see his father out of the corner of his eye, looking at him over the Times, studying him with interest. Confusion swirls through him and his gaze drops; he shuffles his feet awkwardly, hands shoved deep into his jean pockets.

"I'll uh… I'm gonna go for a walk, I'll be back."

He walks around his mother, her lips turned down in a frown as he steps out, closing the door behind him.

"Our boy's got it bad," Joseph Sr. says, a hint of a joke in his voice, but his face perfectly serious.

Gloria sighs. "Yes, and I think it's been that way for a long time."

* * *

In the Queens Midtown Tunnel, Rachel's fingers drum anxiously against the steering wheel. Traffic was bad, really bad and she can feel her already thin patience thinning even more. Suddenly someone cuts her off, swerving in front of her as they finally exit the tunnel. She presses hard on the horn.

"Stupid jackass!" she yells, tears suddenly blurring her vision. Jesus it was not the time to breakdown, she tells herself, wiping the tears angrily away.

A minute out of the tunnel, her phone rings.

"Oh thank God!" she cries, reaching for her phone and then fumbling it, nearly causing the car to careen into the divider. She rights the car, heart beating out of her chest, and answers the phone.

"What?"

There was a beat of silence. "Rach you need better phone etiquette," Chandler greets, sounding amused.

Rachel growls in frustration. "Look, I'm trying to not turn this into 'An Affair to Remember,' I about crashed the car and some asshole cut me off." Swearing again she presses the heal of her hand hard into the horn and changes lanes suddenly, swerving in and out traffic.

"Yes, getting yourself killed would certainly suck right now."

"Ya think?" Rachel takes a deep breath. "Chandler, please tell me he's still there."

"Yeah, he's still there, and I think he's going to stay there too, but I tell you, you owe Ross, like, 5000 nice-guy-points, he's really the one that finally convinced Joey to stop running."

Rachel exhales. "Yeah I know."

"Rach, if you hurt him..." Chandler starts and then stops, tension filling the line.

For a moment her mind flashes back to all the times she probably has hurt Joey Tribbiani, and never knowing it. "I'm not going to Chandler I promise, everything is going to work out perfectly."

Chandler sighs. "All this time he's been running. California was never about new acting opportunities, it was always about trying to get you out of his head."

Rachel chokes for a moment, and blinks away tears. "It'll be different this time."

"I know… bring him home Rach, we're not right with him all the way across the country," he murmurs, and Rachel realizes how much Chandler must have missed his best friend, probably as much as she did.

Her breath shudders. "I will."

_I'm thinkin' that all that still matters is love ever after_

_After the life we've been through_

_'Cause I know there's no life after you_

_-RJRJ-_

_TBC_


End file.
